ought to pity me for loving thus--you must!"--"Stay," he cried, "that is too much;" and signing for Thérésina to retire, he took Corinne in his arms, saying: "Do what thou wilt with me. I must submit to the decrees of Heaven. I cannot abandon thee in this distress, nor lead thee to England, before I have secured thee against the insults of that haughty woman. I will stay with thee. I cannot depart." These words recalled Corinne to herself, yet overwhelmed her with despair. She felt the necessity that weighed upon her, and with her head reclined, remained long silent.--"Dearest!" said Oswald, "let me hear thy voice. I have no other support--no other guide now."--"No," replied Corinne, "you must leave me," and a flood of tears evinced her comparative resignation--"My love," said Nevil, "I call to witness this portrait of my father, and you best know whether his name is sacred to me--I swear to it that my life is in thy power, if needful to thy happiness. At my return from the islands I will see if I cannot restore thee to thy due rank in thy father's country. If I fail, I will return to Italy, and live or die at thy feet."--"But the dangers you are about to brave," she rejoined.--"Fear not, I shall escape; or if I perish, unknown as I am, my memory will survive in thy heart; and when thou hearest my name, thou mayest say, perhaps with tearful eyes, 'I knew him once--he loved me!'"--"Ah, leave me!" she cried: "you are deceived by my apparent calm; to-morrow, when the sun rises, and I tell myself, 'I shall see _him_ no more,' the thought may kill me; happy if it does."--"Why, Corinne, do you fear? is my solemn promise nothing? Can your heart doubt it?"--"No, I respect--too much not to believe you: it would cost me more to abjure mine admiration than my love. I look on you as an angelic being--the purest, noblest, that ever shone on earth. It is not alone your grace that captivates me, but the idea that so many virtues never before united in one object, and that your heavenly look was only given to express them all. Far be it from me, then, to doubt your word. I should fly from the human face forever if Lord Nevil could deceive; but absence has so many perils, and that dreaded word adieu----"--"Have I not said, never--save from my death-bed?" demanded Oswald, with such emotion that Corinne, terrified for his health, strove to restrain her feelings, and became more pitiable than before. They then began to concert means of writing, and to speak on the certainty of rejoining each other. A year was the term fixed. Oswald securely believed that the expedition would not be longer away. Some time was left them still, and Corinne trusted to regain her strength; but when Oswald told her that the gondola would come for him at three in the morning, and she saw, by her dial, that the hour was not far distant, she shivered as if she were approaching the stake: her lover had every instant less resolution; and, Corinne, who had never seen